AN: Hello party people. This chapter is a fill for a prompt suggested several months ago by GeekyGleek. The first little bit appeared on Tumblr as a drabble but has been extended here for everyone's reading pleasure.
Thanks to profitina for betaing and assuring me that I didn't say anything about of left-field about dog ownership, which I have never experienced nor plan on attempting.
Also just a quick reminder that this is an AU-future in which Finn and Rachel went to college in different cities but didn't break up, and Burt didn't get elected to Congress. (Not critical information but it is important for one aspect of the forthcoming tale.)
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"Woof! Woof!"
"Sit! Sit! Good doggy."
Finn sat at the kitchen table going over purchase orders, only vaguely aware of his 6-year-old son and 4-year-old daughter playing close by in the adjacent living room of their brownstone duplex.
What they were playing didn't register until he diverted his eyes from the endless sea of papers and looked up at them.
"Billy! Celine! What are you doing?"
Finn was horrified by the sight of his daughter down on all fours while his son held a rope that had been tied around her neck (her neck!) and pretended to walk her.
"We're pretending Celly is a dog!"
Celine panted and offered a short bark in confirmation.
"You know... since we don't have a real dog," Billy added.
Finn rolled his eyes. "First of all, let go of that before you choke your sister. Secondly, and for the last time, Bill, we're not getting a dog until you are both older and able to be responsible for a pet."
Meanwhile, as if tryingto illustrate his point, Celine stopped crawling around and lifted her leg, pretending to pee on Rachel's elliptical in the corner of the room.
"But Daaaad..." Billy whined.
"'But Dad' nothing," Finn said firmly, contemplating his next move. "We can't get a dog until... both of you are in school."
He knew as soon as the words left his mouth that he'd regret them later. But for the time-being it kept the kids at bay and they moved on to playing with some of their toys.
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One problem (well, Finn saw it as a problem, anyway) with living in Brooklyn was the astronomical canine population. Many people lived in small townhomes or brownstone duplexes or even apartments that afforded enough space to house a dog or two along with several humans. Whenever the Hudsons went to the park or even just walked down the street, there were always dogs around. The kids often approached the ones that seemed friendly and asked the owner the animal's name and asked permission to pet him or her.
Still, any talk of their family adopting a dog was successfully staved off for several years.
Until Celine's best friend Katie got a puppy.
"His name is Benji and he's a mix of a Golden Retriever and a Collie and he's kinda small now but Katie says someday he's going to be big and fluffy!" she explained excitedly over dinner one Sunday night.
"Awesome!" Billy said.
Although fearful of where the conversation was headed, Finn kept quiet. At least the kids were agreeing on something for once, instead of the usual bickering that went on between them.
"Wouldn't having a dog be fun, Mom?" Billy asked.
Rachel exhaled before answering. "It might be," she offered, "but have you considered the hard work and responsibilities that come with owning a pet? Dogs need to be walked twice a day so they can do their business – some of which you'll have to pick up, by the way. And they need to be trained so they don't eat the furniture and behave themselves around strangers."
The children contemplated her explanation in silence for a moment as they ate.
Finn smiled, amazed at how well Rachel was able to hit the high notes in delivering her maternal wisdom to the kids in just a few sentences.
"I still think it'd be totally fun," Billy said, biting into a chicken finger. "A dog could pull us through the park on a sled when it snows!"
"And we could dress it up for Halloween!" Celine suggested, her voice a squeal patented by 9-year-old girls.
Across the table, Finn rolled his eyes liberally, trying to tune out the rest of the ridiculous dog discussion.
"Don't think I didn't see you at dinner, mister," Rachel said sternly that night after the kids had gone to bed.
"What? Me?" Finn answered without looking up from his iPad, trying to play dumb and avoid whatever his wife wanted to talk about with respect to future family pets.
"Yes, you," she insisted, sitting next to him on the bed. "You shied away from the dog discussion like the plague."
"Only trying to learn from past experiences, Rach."
Rachel wrinkled her brow, slightly confused. "What past experiences? You didn't have a dog growing up."
"We didn't. But I'm sure you remember that after Kurt and I went away to college, my mom got one." By now he'd turned off the iPad and turned towards Rachel.
"Sparky," she supplied, recalling the small terrier who had since passed away after a long (by dog standards) and happy life.
"Right. Burt tried to talk her out of the whole thing, but Mom was convinced that it wouldn't be that much work, the house was so empty otherwise, etc.," he explained, waving his arm for effect. "They adopted Sparky and – lo and behold – my mom's varying work schedule made it difficult for her to walk him and play with him and stuff. At first I guess they shared the responsibilities, but gradually Burt wound up doing everything."
"Aww, poor Burt." Rachel finished applying lotion to her legs and got under the covers next to Finn. "It always seemed like he loved that dog, though."
"He did," Finn said with a sigh. "But it's the principle of the thing. Besides, I don't think the kids are old enough to realize how much work it'd be, which means they aren't ready to take are of a pet."
"Hmm, funny, I remember someone trying to convey that message at dinner, while someone else just huffed into his salad," she said with mock wonder.
"Yeah yeah, you're awesome," Finn conceded, wrapping an arm around her small body and pulling her closer to him, hoping to show her some gratitude instead of just talking about her success.
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"So we were completely ready to start set construction at the Jane Street Theater, but apparently Lawrence had 'a bad experience' there ten years ago and refuses to set foot in the establishment!" An exasperated Rachel explained the trials and tribulations of her latest job – an original play in which she was co-starring and co-producing – to her family over breakfast one morning.
"That director sounds like a quack," Finn said as he served himself a second helping of oatmeal.
"It should be fine," Rachel went on. "We can move into the Players' Theater in another two weeks. I'm not going to argue with the additional rehearsal time, but it also means more waiting and anticipation."
"That sounds stressful," Celine said with forced non-chalance. "You know, they say having a dog reduces stress. So if we got a dog all this stuff with your play would seem like no problem!"
Billy's eyes lit up at her suggestion. "Yeah! Why can't we get a dog yet?"
Rachel sighed. "I don't know. It's up to your father."
The kids gasped audibly and shared an excited glance at having (apparently) won over one parent on their years-long crusade to get a dog. They both turned to Finn with cautious anticipation.
"Let's talk about it another time, okay? You both need to leave for school."
"But Dad-"
"School. Now. Both of you," he said sternly. The kids complied by gathering their coats and backpacks before Rachel walked them to the door and sent them off for the day. Then she returned to the kitchen and began loading the breakfast plates into the dishwasher.
"Thanks a lot, Rach." Finn's voice dripped with sarcasm and he crossed his arms in frustration, leaning against the counter. "Way to break our Team Finchel parenting approach and leave me hanging."
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry." She attempted to placate him by leaning over and placing a soft kiss on his lips. "But the kids are old enough now that we should be honest with them."
"And you honestly think they're ready to take care of a puppy." It was a statement, as though he was finishing her thought; not a question.
"I do. But it's not up to me, because most of the supervision will fall on you."
"Exactly," Finn groaned. "If we can wait until they're just a few years older – what?" He interrupted himself when Rachel started laughing at him.
"I don't know, you just sound like such a disgruntled dad when you say it like that," she giggled.
"But seriously," she went on once she composed herself, "do you really think more time will help that much? It's not like Bill is going to wake up one day having magically transformed into an uber-responsible adult. Our job as parents is to help the kids learn how to be responsible and mature by presenting them with challenges."
Finn sighed. She had a point.
He hated when that happened.
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The kids' campaign continued relentlessly for the next week.
"But Dad, you said we could get a dog when we were older and we are. I'll be in high school in 4 months!"
"Bill, I really can't discuss this now. We're catering a big event tonight and Uncle Ryan already called me three times about going downstairs." Finn hurriedly gathered up some papers from the kitchen table, where Celine sat with her laptop.
"Bye Daddy," the 11-year-old said sweetly, smiling up at Finn from behind her screen.
"Bye, kiddo."
The door to the apartment slammed behind the departing Finn and Billy emitted a self-indulgent huff. After a moment he meandered over to the refrigerator and removed a container of leftover meatballs for reheating.
"Don't worry about the dog thing. I got it." Celine didn't even divert her eyes from the screen as he joined her at the table with his snack.
Billy scowled. "What makes you think you can convince him? I've been trying since before you can even remember."
"Easy. Don't you pay attention when Mom and Dad talk to each other?"
"Not really," he answered through a mouthful of meatball, clearly clueless as to where she was going.
Celine rolled her eyes. "I once heard Mom say that Dad is a 'visual learner.' That means to get through to him we have to be visual." With that she turned the laptop screen towards Billy, revealing a PowerPoint presentation she had created.
Still scowling at his sister's audacity he started clicking through the slides. Once he got to the end of the presentation he was admittedly impressed.
"This is good, Cel." He finished his meatballs in silence, ignoring her smug expression as she put the finishing touches on the presentation.
Later that night, once Rachel got home from the theater, Celine made a big show of sitting her parents on the couch and setting her laptop on a tray table in front of them. Billy stood next to her even though he was content to let Celine do all the talking.
Once sure she had their attention, she cleared her throat. "Mom, Dad," she began. "As you are aware, we've wanted a pet dog for several years. Tonight, we'll explain to you the numerous reasons why we're ready for the responsibility."
Rachel tried to contain her smile, clearly pleased and amused by the children's approach to winning Finn over.
The presentation they put on included a mock schedule, describing how Billy and Celine would take turns walking their future pet and divide other tasks entailed in his or her care. There were also a few sides on the health benefits of having a pet and the happiness in particular that dogs brought to their owners. Finally, they displayed information about a nearby shelter where they could adopt an animal rescued from the streets of the city, and the name and number of a well-respected veterinary clinic in the neighborhood.
"In conclusion, we feel that we are capable of taking care of a dog and would greatly appreciate the addition of a pet to our family. Thank you."
Rachel quietly clapped in the kids' direction until she felt Finn's eyes on her.
"Sorry," she whispered after stopping abruptly.
Finn took a deep breath and let it out slowly, studying his kids'
"Okay," he said, albeit reluctantly.
"Okay?" Celine asked anxiously while Rachel and Billy also looked on with caution.
"Yeah. You can be excited now."
"Yes!" Billy high-fived his sister and ran to hug Finn in an expression of gratitude.
"Thanks, Daddy!" Celine exclaimed as she joined in the hug. Then she bounded for the stairs up to her room, clearly intent on going online immediately to share the good news with her friends via every imaginable internet outlet. "We promise we'll be so good and take care of her and it's just going to be so great!"
" 'Her?' Who decided we're getting a girl dog?" Billy asked as he followed her up the stairs.
With that Finn hung his head in his hands, cursing himself for the amount of arguments and disputes this new milestone was going to create in his life.
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Finn agreed that they could get a dog on the condition that the furry friend would be adopted and brought home at the very beginning of the summer, when the kids were done with school but hadn't yet started their summer activities. He also convinced them to take a few books about dog training out of the library.
The actual adoption process went fairly smoothly. Rachel was entirely moved by the process of taking in a rescue animal, and if left to her own devices she probably would have adopted three or four pets from the shelter. Ultimately, the kids decided on a friendly male retriever-mix puppy who they named Riley (after their favorite Brooklyn Nets player).
"Someone brought him here after finding him on Union Street near the Gowanus Canal," a shelter employee told the family. "We estimate him to be about six months old. Even though he's one of the younger pups we've taken in, he's not in such bad shape. Friendly, fairly obedient, not too excitable."
The kids were ecstatic, taking turns holding Riley's leash as they walked him home. The cheerful scene brought a smile to Finn's face even though he'd been against the acquisition of a pet.
He was also impressed by how attentive they were to their new responsibilities. During that first week of dog ownership Finn heard the kids talking about poop and a pair of flip-flops destroyed when they left Riley alone for "two minutes", but other than that they didn't complain. Most importantly, the dog was already responding to commands such as "sit" and "stay."
For the time-being, the plan was to keep Riley behind a baby-gate in the kitchen when the kids weren't around to watch him. Celine had grumbled something about the gate being "inhumane," but then Rachel reminded her about the flip-flops and she agreed that it would be better to restrict Riley's movement around the house until they were sure that he'd behave.
Finn's moment of truth came on Monday morning, when Celine had her basketball clinic and Billy his karate class. Rachel also breezed out of the house relatively early to Finding himself the only human in the house, he settled in at the kitchen table to read the latest edition of his favorite New York City restaurant trade journal.
A few sentences into the first column, he heard whining coming from the gate along the kitchen entrance. Sighing, he looked over in the direction and saw the whimpering puppy staring at him longingly.
"Don't look at me like that," Finn warned. Feeling entirely ridiculous for talking to the dog, he quickly looked back down at his reading.
When the whimpering continued, Finn reluctantly approached the gate and let Riley out, leading him by the collar over to the table.
"Stay," Finn commanded, warily resuming his reading while monitoring Riley out of the corner of his eye. Then, rather absently, he found himself reaching down every so often to scratch Riley between the ears. The dog responded happily each time, pressing his nose into Finn's leg.
Eventually, he leapt up on his hindquarters and planted his front paws on Finn's lap, tail wagging rapidly back and forth.
Using his minimum canine interpretation skills, Finn was able to guess what that meant.
"Fine!" he groaned in defeat, walking over to the couch with the puppy following eagerly on his heels. When he took a seat, Riley jumped up to join him, happily settling his face on Finn's lap.
"If you pee on the couch, this friendship will be over before it even began," he informed the animal, scratching Riley's ears with one hand and holding the magazine in the other.
Riley yawned in response, thumping his tail against the cushion.
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AN2: See, Finn was secretly a dog lover the whole time.
Review? :-)